Rites of the Tempest
by Tempest Drifter
Summary: Original characters in a story about freedom. Freedom from rules, freedom from fate. Freedom from...the Force? Chapter V is fixed, but it may take some time to show. This will be a long story; expect updates in the near future. If I get reviews.
1. I

Disclaimer: George Lucas owns Star Wars. I own this story.  
  
  
  
  
  
The sky above was a vast shadow, stretching from horizon to horizon in darkness. Thunder rolled ahead and crashed upon the stone cliffs in the distant mist. There was naught else to see, save the lone figure of a man shrouded in black. He stood at the edge of one of the cliffs, gazing down at the gray earth below. It seemed eager to take on the dampness that held, for now, only in the silent air, warm and heavy with vapor. The man did not like it. He did not like much of this place. It was always raining, always wet. Among the green grass and forested cliffs, the only familiar presence was the flashing of electricity overhead. A storm. The man had known storms all his life, and as the next wave of thunder smashed through the bleak heavens, he smiled beneath his mask. Such a wonderful sound. He wished for a moment that his face were free, and the air could caress the skin under his eyes. He had never known moist air. And now he was a prisoner of this mask, this helmet. It was solid, covering the whole of his head in a comfortable frame, rimmed with crimson cloth. The man's fading smile could not be seen, nor could the closing of his eyes. They too were hidden, but not by the cloth. A black slit, something like a narrow obtuse triangle, spread from rim to rim of the mask. All else that could be seen of him was swathed in black, a robe that melded with the shadows in the air. Occasionally he would clench his fists at a drop of rain; they were bound in red gauntlets. No, this place was not like his home. It made him sad, like the void in place of a light once shining. It was worse than nothingness. It consumed him.  
  
But the man did not speak. He was as silent as the long gaps in-between thunder. It seemed that at any moment he would leap from the cliff and disappear into the mists below. But he held his ground, not swaying at even the strongest gust of damp air. He was beyond such physical whims now. He commanded the Force.  
  
I have grown strong, he thought, feeling the clouds grow in number. No being governs me. I am free, as these winds are. He once more wished he could feel them. But, after a moment of quiet longing had passed, he opened his eyes sharply. The cliff seemed closer now, though in truth he had not moved. I've forgotten. He narrowed his brow. I've grown weak and I've forgotten. This mask is my scar, and I will never be free. Never. The man folded his gut inward and lashed out at himself quietly. He was a fool to forget. There was no pure freedom. Only freedom and hatred. Nothing else. His sadness was weakness, his longing was weakness. Perhaps this is why he had come here. There must only be hate. Hatred and freedom.   
  
The dark lord is near. I can sense him, he pondered. Would he make himself my master? I must learn, but I must never become an apprentice. Where is the line drawn? Thunder crashed again in the distance. The line...boundaries. Whatever happened to  
  
"Freedom?" mocked Jedi Master Qei. His smile was thin and verging on comical. Light shone harshly in the windows. "Freedom is an illusion, my young padawan. An oxymoron." He waved his hand across the long oaken table, and then to the archaic windows and their colored glass. He gestured to the bright ceiling and the walls of the small room. "Do you think any of this is free? Any of this room?"  
  
"That's not the same.."  
  
"Of course it is." Qei rapped his knuckle lightly on the table and sat back down. He leaned back in the large, outdated chair and narrowed his eyes. "Everything has a price. These are artifacts we earned through the Republic's trust in us. If that trust did not exist, neither would our discussions at this table."  
  
"But it's not the same...master," Varus pleaded. The young human of sixteen was growing annoyed with his learning. He brushed his deep blonde hair to a side and moved his hand down to rest on his forehead. "I mean the freedom of an individual. A living being, like you or me. We have the freedom to rule our lives without anyone to control us. Isn't that right?"  
  
"What about the Republic? Surely we owe some allegiance to it?"  
  
Varus sighed. "But the Republic doesn't control us. We can manage our own destinies." He looked up and made eye contact with Qei. This was something the Jedi Master could not dispute.   
  
And he didn't. Instead, he remarked, "Then never forget the Force. We will always belong to it. It binds the universe and preserves all things." He leaned forward so that his voice could be clear amongst the ancient room's echoes. "The moment we are free of it is the moment we are free of life itself. And I'm sure that's not what you mean either."  
  
"That's not fair," dismissed Varus. The padawan raised his arms openly in reason. "Why don't we control the Force, and not the other way around? That's freedom. True freedom."  
  
Qei grew grim and silent for a while. He stared mournfully at Varus while a shaft of dust floated between them. "That way lies the dark side," he whispered more than spoke. "For us, there can be no 'true freedom'. We Jedi exist to serve. You must learn to accept that before your training is complete, my young padawan. Serve and obey. Retire now and read the Jedi Code again." The Jedi Master kept his lips parted and breathed quietly outward, as if expelling a deep and secret frustration. He did not look up as Varus left the room. The boy had to learn. This attitude must not continue.   
  
The padawan in white robes swept out of the ruinous building with intensity. He hated the place. Its walls, its rules, its dust. It imprisoned him. He hated Qei too, though he soon crammed that thought into a deep pocket of himself. He mustn't let those things surface. If the Order found out, he might be expelled. All he wanted to do now was forget the room, forget the table. Just escape to the dunes out front and gaze at the setting sun. He waited there a while as his thoughts drifted. They were as lonely as the crimson sphere in the sky, burning in isolation, sinking him into the earth, the sand. In a way Varus wished he really could sink away and disappear. This training wasn't right. He could feel it. He'd lived on this dust ball of a planet all his life, and the only outworlder he had ever met was Master Qei. A pilgrim. A missionary of the Force. What else was out there? Where did the Republic come from? All he knew of it was cold facts and its donations to the technology of his world. Factories and old libraries of buildings scattered here and there in the desert. Behind him was one of them, a "school" for adept learners of the Force. So far Varus was the only student, and Qei the only teacher.  
  
Where were the other Jedi? Did they really exist, or was Qei some cultist trying to escape the government? It mattered little what Varus thought. He never knew his parents, so the Jedi Master was the only guidance he had. And so far, Qei's religion seemed to work. Varus could move boulders like the feathers of a dune falcon. He could manipulate the minds of simple people with delighted ease. Perhaps that was the reason for his isolation. His powers even allowed him to cause small sparks from his fingertips. This seemed to distress Qei most, but Varus saw no harm in it. It was all so easy, so effortless. It made no sense why the padawan should remain in schooling on the same planet with the same mentor. He should lead his own life, among the stars. Free as the wind...  
  
A grain of sand blew in his eye. Varus shook his head violently, and when he opened his eyes, the last rays of the sun were gone below the horizon. Night had come, and the air grew chill. I'd better go inside, Varus thought. I can at least pretend to read the code again. He turned back to the ancient building, a structure worn down to near ruins by sand and heat. With a heavy sigh, Varus vanished inside and found his room in the dusty corridors. I don't see how Qei does it. The padawan sank to his bed and sighed. He's a master, yet he's a servant. Tomorrow would be a long day. 


	2. II

When his eyes opened, Varus heard thunder. It was low and distant, rolling across the dunes to the South. No rain would come. The world, Sarkuhn, had only dry storms of sand, dust, and lightning. It was a wonder anything lived there at all. The only lifeblood of the planet was a deep cache of water that flowed in caverns far below the surface. Most of civilization was there, underground. When they felt generous, they ran wells up to the top-dwellers in exchange for furs or goods from offworld. All the ports were topside, and there were a few brave settlements in the deep desert. Varus was in neither. He lived with Qei in the middle of a vast sea of sand. Occasionally a wayward stranger would happen upon the school, but he would be gone before sunrise of the next day. Qei did not tolerate visitors.   
  
Varus stretched his arms and craned his neck to take in the view from his solitary window. It was still dark, and dense clouds leaked over the horizon. Another sand storm was coming.  
  
"The time is one hour before sunrise," chimed the automated voice of the room's clock. "Would you like to sleep in, Master Varus?"  
  
"No." The padawan rubbed his eyes and rose, with some effort, from his disorderly bed. "You can switch off for now."  
  
"As you wish, Master Varus."  
  
The thunder grew louder and more violent. It drummed across the stone walls and hammered the panes of the windows with fierce vibrations. The sound was an old acquaintance to Varus. Once, long ago, he had been frightened of the great noise in the sky. Now it was more like the firm hand of a friend stopping by for a visit.   
  
The freedom of a storm, Varus thought. Coming and going as it pleases. Raw and untamed power. What it must be like...He closed his eyes and felt the energy crackle in the sky, felt the tempest surge with electricity. Lightning. It flashed like the gleam in the fangs of some primal beast. Thunder. It roared and shook the world with a black volume, the booming voice of some hallowed god, terrible and wonderful from heavens to earth. Could there be a clearer symbol of freedom, of power?  
  
"Good morning, young padawan." Qei stood outside the doorway, fully alert and impossibly reserved.  
  
"Master, please," Varus sighed. "It's too early. Leave me to meditate."  
  
"On what, the storm? You'll have plenty of opportunities for that. Today we have much to discuss. Get dressed and meet me in the garden." With that, Qei vanished from the hall. How he knew Varus was awake, the padawan could not fathom.   
  
"Another day of philosophy, I'll bet."  
  
The storm began to die outside. There was probably another foot of sand covering everything in sight. Varus shook his head and reached for his robe. But as he did, his hand brushed against something strange and rough. It rose and fell in rhythm, almost like breathing. Curious, Varus froze and concentrated on the strange texture. It felt warm...alive. The padawan turned his head and gasped sharply. A cavern snake slept in his robes.  
  
This was sheer nightmare. The cavern snakes of Sarkuhn were twice as venomous as any serpent the Rim could yield. There was no known antidote for their poison because of their obscurity, and one bite almost certainly meant death. They were like phantom scourges of the desert, stealing lives in the flash of a moonlit night.  
  
The adrenaline was already rushing. Calm yourself, Varus thought. The Force is your guide. A Jedi conquers his instincts. The snake began to move, but Varus did not withdraw his hand. The urge to do so was almost unbearable. Brace yourself. The Force is your shield. A Jedi does not attack. The serpent was wide awake now. It hissed long and slow, and its leathery skin began to tense. Varus closed his eyes. A Jedi does not attack, came the lesson in his mind. But what came next? The snake had bared its fangs, and time was running out. Where is Master Qei when you actually need him?  
  
Suddenly the serpent lunged viciously at the padawan's hand. With the Force fueling his reaction, Varus darted his hand away from the venomous fangs and leapt back. A Jedi does not attack. But then what did a Jedi do? A Jedi does not attack..  
  
"Chaos take the Jedi!" Varus cursed. If he delayed any longer, the cavern snake would surely kill him. It was still too close to flee. He had no physical weapons.   
  
So be it then. Varus stretched his hand out again, but this time he spread his fingers and gnashed his teeth together inside his mouth. A burning fire rushed through his veins as he thought of nothing but the storm. Its power to do what it pleased, it's freedom.  
  
I have that freedom. I am the tempest.  
  
Lightning streamed forth from his fingertips. Pure lightning, not the sparks he had toyed with as a child. It hurt to maintain it at first, but the sensation soon passed within acceptance as the power drained on and on, into the snake, burning it from the inside out and incinerating its fragile body. Smoke rose in a great, stinking cloud and filled the room. When there was nothing left but piles of ash, Varus let the lightning subside.  
  
He was shaking, as if a great warmth had left him, leaving a frigid emptiness it its place. Varus turned to find the door. Qei was standing there, his arms folded across his chest and a blank look on his bearded face.  
  
"Open yourself," he recited. "The Force is your voice. A Jedi soothes the hostile."  
  
Varus didn't speak, but merely nodded sickly. That was what he'd forgotten. He'd failed again. "You'll need a new robe," Qei said, nodding at the ashes. "Come with me."  
  
  
  
The dark man, shrouded in black, sat upon a cold seat in the cockpit of a small ship. The vessel was discreet, so black that it cast nothing but a silhouette against the stars. It sailed to a bright sphere in the distance, a world of vast dryness and lightning.   
  
"Master," came the hollow voice. It reached across the still air to the back of the ship, where another dark and brooding presence rested. The latter was silent and menacing, probing the bare space around it with a sinister and piercing stare. "We are close now," the voice continued. "The Jedi will never follow us here. It is too far from the Core, even the Rim."   
  
The other presence spoke, deeper and more wary. "I wonder if your feelings are clear on this, my young apprentice."  
  
For a moment there was silence. Instruments slowly flashed in the cockpit, their pale glare glancing off the crimson helmet of the grim pilot. Then, "They are clear, Master. I have felt no sign of awareness." He gazed out the viewport at the stark world in the distance. "This planet is vast and empty of Republic agents. Here we can stay in peace."  
  
"I hope, for your sake, you are right," the other whispered. A pale, lithe hand drew out of the shadows and rested on the pilot's shoulder. "You will be the first to die if we are discovered." 


	3. III

The cloth was gray. Worn shreds of it dangled, frayed, on the inside. Varus had never seen a poorer robe. It smelled of a sour Keth spice that was alien to the refinement facilities. And, what was worse, the odor did not leave. It stung the air around the robe like a perpetual poison.  
  
"Master, what is this?" Varus flinched, his brow raised in disdain.  
  
Qei smirked lightly and raised his hand. "Your new attire, my young padawan." The stench was faint, just potent enough to earn a grimace or two. The sun had begun to rise, orange light wavering at the ornate windows, young and struggling against the clouds of dust beyond. The day was progressing as if nothing had happened.  
  
"I will not wear this." Varus held the disgraceful robe at a distance, pinching it with his thumb and forefinger.   
  
"Would you prefer to wear your nightclothes when we leave planet?" Qei asked, a faint light breaking from his eyes.  
  
"Well, no, but..." Varus paused. He looked at Qei. "What did you say?"  
  
Qei shrugged and repeated, "Would you prefer to wear your nightclothes when we leave planet?"  
  
There it was. Varus raced in his mind, grasping for some hint of reality. Would I...No, no. That wasn't it. When...The padawan widened his eyes. When we leave planet!  
  
"Master-"  
  
"You'd better get dressed. Today will be a long day."  
  
"But Master-"  
  
"You heard me. Get dressed and meet me in the garden. I will explain there."  
  
Varus could barely contain his excitement. When we leave planet! He now clutched the robe firmly and draped it about him in a flash. He walked briskly, straight to the garden.  
  
Qei wasn't there. The place was filled with green plants and brilliant flowers, an oasis in the desert he knew, like some pocket of memory, wonderful things long gone. Master Qei had explained he'd brought them there from his homeworld in the core of the galaxy. They were the only plants Varus had seen his entire life. He treasured this place deeply and welcomed the chance to sit down a while on the cool grass, alone and beaming in awe at his luck. They were leaving. He was leaving. Finally.  
  
For all of his life, Varus had only known Sarkuhn. Its sand, its winds, its storms. He had only known the pale sky and glaring sun. Now was the time he had waited for, when he could see another world, another sky, another sun. The universe would finally be open, its wonders waiting for him. And I'll be free to see them, he thought. Finally free.  
  
"That's what I'm afraid of," sighed Qei, appearing, abrupt as usual, around the bend of a thick bush. His use of the Force for telepathy was unnerving. "Freedom has its disadvantages, my young padawan. When we make it out to exist at all." With a slight look around, Qei settled down against the trunk of a short ithic tree. He noticed Varus was watching him patiently, so he continued. "The galaxy is not all wonders, Varus. I wish it were. The truth is, it is a dangerous place." He narrowed his gaze beneath his brow. "Much like your bedroom."  
  
"Master, I-"  
  
"I know what happened, Varus. You encountered a cavern snake, so you incinerated it."  
  
"It would've killed me! The situation was too dangerous."  
  
"The real danger lies in ourselves, not in the unknown. When we encounter something unfamiliar, we react in a rash way."   
  
"But it wasn't unknown. Those serpents are poisonous enough to kill prey many times their size! I had no choice, no other weapon."  
  
"You think the Force is a weapon?"  
  
"No-"  
  
"For the number of options you gave that snake, it might as well have been alien to this galaxy. Your 'weapon' could have been replaced by an open hand. Soothe the snake's instincts. Use the Force to make it docile. Put it back to sleep. Did you consider these?"  
  
Varus sighed. "No master, I did not."  
  
"You used the Force to create lightning."  
  
"It happened so fast-"  
  
"The flow of time can be easily managed by a servant of the Force. But you acted as no servant. You sought to command the Force, and it must not be commanded. That is corruption. That is the dark side." Qei was silent for a moment. He observed his student, his adopted child. Already he could feel Varus losing patience. "Do you understand that, padawan? We've been over this again and again. But for once, I think I know how to pound it into your brain."  
  
"Master?"  
  
"We are going to hunt Sith, Varus. That is why we are leaving this world. I have orders from the Council to apprehend a Sith Lord who was spotted no more than a system away from us. He may be on the run, and we are to keep him from escaping to another secret hiding place. You'll see what 'freedom' from the Jedi code does to a person, my young padawan. You'll see first hand."  
  
"Master, with all due respect...I don't even have a lightsaber yet."  
  
"You shouldn't need one. You will be acting as an observer on this journey. We will rendezvous with an old friend of mine near the second moon of Akeruhn."  
  
"You mean we're not leaving the system?"  
  
"We will. But only after we've docked with Master Wianna and her padawan. Wianna and I should be more than enough to handle a Sith Lord. Ava will be observing with you."  
  
"We'll meet other Jedi?" Varus asked, a hint of anticipation glowing in his face.  
  
"Ava is not yet a Jedi. But yes, you will meet her master. It will be an opportunity for you to learn many new things, things I could not teach you myself. I admit, though this planet may be safe, it is far too limiting." There was sincerity in his pale eyes, and he looked again to Varus after they closed a moment.  
  
"When do we leave?" he heard the padawan ask.  
  
A light smile returned to Qei's face. "Tomorrow," he said. Qei could sense Varus' reaction building to barely containable excitement, so he quickly added, "After you have delivered an in-depth report on the Jedi Code of Action and the Moralistic Values of the Great Republic."  
  
Varus parted his lips in indignation. "Master, please. You have several copies of my notes on both of those scriptures. Can't you find me something different?"  
  
"We will continue the same lesson until you get it right, my young padawan." Qei sighed wearily, annoyance stealing the softness from his eyes. "If the schedule were not so tight, I would gladly keep us here a bit longer so you can get that head of yours out of the sky. For a Jedi, there can be no pride. I have never seen a boy so young attuned to so much raw power. It greatly disturbs me, Varus. And to take you away from this safety, this isolation, so early in training..." Qei shook his head and looked up. "My padawan, it is one thing to brush against the dark side after seeing all the horrors in this galaxy. It is another thing to brush against the dark side after spending your entire life in quiet isolation. It sickens me to imagine what the rest of the stars in that void could do to you."  
  
Varus became unconcerned and lifted his gaze to the sky with only partial apprehension. "I'll be fine, Master," he yawned. "There aren't any cavern snakes in space, are there?"  
  
Qei didn't laugh. "No," he said, quietly. But there are other things. 


	4. IV

The rest of the day passed without much event. Varus had the disappointment of watching the sunset from his window as he labored studiously to finish his reports. They were so useless, so trivial. It was the same every day. Every word of the texts resonated in his mind like a third lung filling and emptying, only pausing in rhythm when he gave it too much thought. As he glanced over the Moralistic Values of the Great Republic, he couldn't help but think of his own arguments on each subject. Justice, for instance, was often a great deal trickier than what he imagined it should be. Though the Jedi were the general peacekeepers of the galaxy, it seemed many systems liked to use a complicated system of trials and proceedings to make a big show of everything. That can't be necessary, Varus concluded. Every system should trust the Jedi to make the right decisions. Yet the majority still leave it to biased councils and hearings. He frowned and turned from the fragile window. Logic says we could make better decisions anyway. The Force says so.  
  
When weariness finally took him, Varus left his unanswered challenges floating indifferently in his head. It could all wait until he was up there, among the stars and the worlds he had dreamed of. He descended into a deep sleep that night. Through the void of unconsciousness, almost undetectable, there came a faint stirring, as of a small spark turning to ember. It grew and gnawed at the back of his slumbering mind, until at last he could bare it no longer. He opened his eyes, and he heard a storm.   
  
I have grown strong. There was thunder and rain. No being governs me. Lightning. I am free, as these winds are.   
  
What? Where was he?   
  
The dark lord is near...  
  
There were cliffs. He could feel the winds, and they seemed heavy with some kind of spray, lighter than sand. It reminded him of...  
  
I can sense him.   
  
What? Who?  
  
Would he make himself my master?  
  
Qei was already his master.  
  
I must learn, but I must never become an apprentice. Where is the line drawn?  
  
More thunder. Then, The line...boundaries. Whatever happened to  
  
He awoke. Sand was scraping hoarsely against the colored glass. Varus was within his bedroom once more, cold and somehow estranged from his blankets. There was the sound of some insect buzzing against the walls outside, pausing here and there to get its bearings. The night had nearly passed, for the stars in the sky were already beginning to disappear. The alarm would go off soon.  
  
Was that a dream? he wondered. It made little difference. There was so little sense in it that Varus doubted it would stay in his memory very long anyway. But then again, it did seem very real, and...wait. Master Qei was wide awake. Varus could sense him through the Force. His mentor usually worked that early anyway, meditating and planning the day ahead. But this time there was some sense of urgency in his master's mind. Something had come up.  
  
He quickly got dressed and shut off the alarm before it could startle him. He left his bed unmade and wandered into the halls. "Master?" There was no answer. The halls were still dim under the meager light of glowlamps. Several dark corridors passed by his side, the world beginning to blur more than it had in his dream. He was nearing the library. Surely Qei could hear him now. "Master?"  
  
Still there was no answer. Varus calmed his mind and reached out with the Force. He could feel Qei's presence in the old study room, where the long table had hosted many of their philosophical debates. It made no sense why he'd be there alone. A bit uneasy, Varus came to the room. He entered slowly and looked around with caution. There.  
  
Qei stood in the corner near the window, absolutely still. Every muscle in his body was tensed, like a spring coiled to its last degree. "Master, calm yourself," Varus whispered. He reached out with the Force to assess the situation, reading the patterns of life. There was himself, calm and a bit weary still from lack of sleep. Qei, he sensed, was not tired but tested, putting forth a great deal of effort to remain absolutely still. Could there be another cavern snake?   
  
No, Varus could sense no such presence. He was too focused now to miss it again. There was the insect, still buzzing somewhere outside, but that couldn't possibly-  
  
Wait. There it was. Another presence. How long had it been there? It felt like something humanoid, quiet resolve radiating from it as it kept some kind of vigil. It was outside, somewhere amongst the dunes, watching Qei as he struggled to remain still. The Jedi Master was doing a good job, but Varus could see the sweat beginning to drip from his brow.  
  
"Master, what is it?" Varus hissed. "What is that thing?"  
  
Qei didn't speak, but his padawan got the message. Don't move.  
  
Varus nodded his head impatiently, glancing at the window. He was diagnal from it, so whatever was outside probably couldn't see him yet. He looked at Qei desperately. Master, what is it?  
  
A Mandalorian.  
  
The padawan's breath ceased. He fell as motionless as Qei, though it was involuntary on his part. He was completely off guard now. That wasn't possible. A Mandalorian? Here? The most he knew of them was that they grappled with the Republic from time to time, and their armor was somewhat notorious for its flexibility and intimidation. They did live somewhere in the Unknown Regions, but here? Sarkuhn was a port world. It had no indigenous species of note. Every family had come from offworld. So why had the Mandalorian come? Was it hunting Qei?  
  
Don't move, the thought came again. It's hunting you. 


	5. V

The air outside was dry and calm. A grim wind lashed out across the dunes, forcing the quiet stillness to move occasionally, like the searching gaze of some intangible sentry. Varus was not grateful for this. It made his heart beat higher and harder, its pace fast enough to work loose of the tranquil parameter that had surrounded it. Anxiety was in control now, and paranoia was festering in his mind. His thoughts were running in a desperate pattern of What does a Mandalorian look like? or Why is it here? and Can it see me?  
  
There truly wasn't much to see at all. Night on Sarkuhn was as bleak as it was in the day. Instead of a great bright haze of dust and sand, there was a great dark haze. Clues such as footprints vanished within seconds. Varus stretched out with the Force. He could still feel Qei, distant now but still motionless under the Mandalorian's vigil. They had taken a desperate gamble to resolve this crisis. Using the Force, Varus had taken Qei's lightsaber from his waist and then escaped the back way, making his way outside to the wall of the study. Qei had argued against it, saying, You're not ready to wield a lightsaber, padawan. You're more a danger to yourself than your enemies.  
  
We'll see how dangerous I am, Varus grinned. He could feel the Mandalorian more clearly now, his confidence returning to replace some of the fear that welled up inside him. Lightsaber combat was a skill Qei had been reluctant to teach, seeing as the only practice tool available was his own golden blade. He also seemed very uneasy whenever Varus handled the weapon, always nagging with the reminder, "Though it may exist as a Jedi's tool, it was not intended as such." Varus had yet to decipher what that meant, but he was certain Qei simply lacked confidence in him. He always lacked confidence, the old man. That's all right, Varus thought. I can more than make up for it.  
  
He leapt swiftly atop one of the pale gray dunes, his silhouette framed against the stars of the night sky. This was one of the highest, for the other dunes seemed to sift below him and out of sight. There was one, however, that was nearly parallel with him and visible. Varus would go there next. He was close now, and it was essential to see the Mandalorian before it saw him. Otherwise...  
  
Varus tried to shake the thought. Qei had warned him of the Mandalorians' acute marksmanship. They could shoot faster and more precise than a Jedi sometimes. Varus doubted this, but his master remained wary. Qei obviously didn't think his speed was a match for this Mandalorian's, for he still hadn't moved in the study. Everything was so quiet.  
  
Breathing deeper now, Varus gathered his strength. He would have to use the Force for this jump, the dune nearly blending with the dark haze at the borders of his sight. He closed his eyes. Size and distance are irrelevant, his teaching said. They matter not. Three more breaths. Physical boundaries are for the physical. Two more. They matter not. One more breath. Calm yourself. The Force is your guide. A Jedi conquers his instincts. Brace yourself. The Force is your shield. A Jedi does not attack. Open yourself. The Force is your voice. A Jedi soothes the hostile. He jumped.   
  
There was fire, searing all around him. The sanded turf below punched into his midsection as he fell from his wayward leap. Varus could smell his own flesh burning, but he flooded this from thought. There was another sense, one more important. Footsteps shuffled away in the sand to his left. There it was.  
  
Varus rolled frantically in the sand and doused the flames as best he could before leaping at the sound. Thunder echoed in the distance. Half-blinded from his fall, the padawan groped before him as he spirited through the air, half jumping every few feet to maintain his speed. Suddenly his hand clamped upon what felt like a blaster pistol, and it shook violently as the weapon fired and then fell from the grip of a startled Mandalorian. Varus opened his eyes.   
  
Stumbling backward was the armored warrior, an ominous shadow upon the gray dunes. The T-shaped visor in its helmet was focused upon Varus in surprise as its blaster pistol dove into the sand. There was a masculine grunt, and the warrior withdrew its newly empty hand for a quick punch, but Varus was wary. He shoved his palm further outward and force-pushed the Mandalorian onto its back. As this happened, the warrior triggered something on its wrist and a jet of flame flew out from under it, propelling the Mandalorian like a rocket across the surface of the dune. Varus shielded his face from the blast and fell backward. A jetpack? He coughed. I really need to get out more. He scrambled up to his feet and watched as the warrior regained control and lifted off the ground, into the black sky. It hovered there as it worked to pull something from its holster. Another weapon?  
  
Varus felt his shoulder scorch as a red streak of energy burned down from above. He cried out in pain and staggered in the sand. This must've been what Qei had feared. It was some sort of long-range blaster rifle, only more deadly. Varus could already feel the sizzle of smoke escaping into the cool night air as the gash in his arm smoldered. Relaxing his eyes, the padawan let the force pour into him, filling his wounds and dulling the pain. He felt a surge of anger at the Mandalorian, but he quickly subdued it as a serene feeling encompassed his body. This was the right way. Varus freed his mind of thought and opened his eyes.  
  
The Mandalorian hovered there, almost slower and brighter than before. It seemed to be readying for another shot. Varus leapt straight up, the lightsaber still sheathed. With the force of a terrible wave, the padawan crashed into the hovering warrior and drove him into the ground. They landed violently, and sand flew all around, but Varus was calm. He felt a stream of flame spew from one of the Mandalorian's gauntlets, but it was slow, almost dream-like. The padawan kneed the warrior in its throat and the fire ceased. It was at this moment that Varus ignited his master's lightsaber and raised himself from his fallen opponent. Before the Mandalorian could retaliate, the golden blade was humming at its neck.   
  
"Don't kill me," the warrior rasped.  
  
Varus didn't flinch. "Who are you," he demanded. "Why are you trying to kill us?"  
  
But the Mandalorian didn't answer with words. Instead, an urgent beeping noise sounded from its fist. There it clenched a silver sphere with glowing lights. Varus was puzzled.  
  
"Get back!" came another voice. The padawan was pulled violently away from the Mandalorian, his blade still glowing. Before Varus could turn, there was an incredible flash of light in the sand where the warrior had been. An explosion rattled the dune and both the padawan and his savior were thrown to the ground in a blinding instant. The sound of thunder echoed in Varus' ears as the stars rushed up before him. Suddenly everything was gone, quenched in a silent blackness that drowned the padawan in another sea of dreams. 


	6. VI

"So Qei digs up things, like you."  
  
"Ava. He's an archaeologist, like me."  
  
"But that's what you do. You said so. You dig up things and you study them."  
  
"I said I study things and learn from them. Thieves dig up the past," Wianna stressed. "People like Qei and I preserve it."  
  
Ava thought for a moment. Her eyes were green and potent, quietly beaming to express something. They peered out of a soft, bemused face, framed with a modest paleness and expectancy. Her hair was a light blonde and fell loosely to her gentle shoulders. She was so much younger than her master Wianna, yet sometimes she felt older. She shook her head. "You can preserve things better by fighting," she reasoned.   
  
"That's a last resort for any Jedi." Wianna smiled. "Archaeologist or not." Ava had a good deal of common sense, but sometimes she overstepped her bounds. She needs to get a taste of the galaxy, Wianna frowned. Might as well tell her. "It also concerns our next assignment."   
  
Ava's lips parted in a gasp. "We have an assignment? You're kidding!"   
  
Wianna sighed a little and smirked. I wish. Her face wasn't elderly, just weary and careworn. Her spirit was still strong and vivacious, adding a subtle and rigid layer to her tone. "It's very dangerous, so you're observing," she said. "Qei's going to help me out on this one."  
  
Great. Two archaeologists. Ava's mind schemed a little, seeking to drag some humor out of the situation. She smiled. "So that's why we were talking about him."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Come to think of it, you've been mentioning him a lot lately."  
  
"Yes.."  
  
Ava narrowed her gaze. "You guys have a history, don't you?"  
  
"No! That's...Ava!"  
  
Ava giggled abruptly. This was going to be fun after all. She was delighted, her beaming eyes intent on Wianna. "You like him! I knew it!" She didn't need the Force for this. "You both dig up things! That's so romantic."  
  
"Ava, listen to me," Wianna menaced. The girl's charms made her want to relax sometimes. Sometimes they made her want to break the Jedi Code. "Qei and I are old friends. Love's forbidden for Jedi. You know that."  
  
Ava was quiet for a moment, her smile still warm but less ecstatic. She knew that. She didn't know why it was so, didn't like it, but she knew that. She continued to look at Wianna. The master's expression was tired. I guess I shouldn't have said anything. Ava's smile slowly faded. "I'm sorry, Wi. It's just..we were joking before and.."  
  
"I know." Wianna sat back down beside her padawan at the holodeck table. She'd been pacing too long. Qei had been on that desert rock for too many years. The ship wasn't the same without him. He hadn't met Ava. He didn't know what things were like in the Core. It was too quiet. She rubbed her creased forehead and sighed, "I know."   
  
  
  
It was an ambush. The dark silhouette of a ship, now in danger of getting lit up like a torch, dove aimlessly from the local patrols. Bad luck, the cloaked pilot grimaced. Things were going well before they passed by that seemingly derelict freighter. Something was unnerving about the security of this system. And a backwater system at that, he thought, temporarily dazed by a barrage of bright red blasts.   
  
"The Jedi will never follow us here," his master quoted dryly. "Here we can stay in peace."  
  
"Master, please be quiet. Those fighters are local, not Jedi. Do you want to fly this ship?"  
  
The brooding presence behind him suddenly grew much darker. "Your impudence will be short-lived once we land."  
  
If we land, the pilot snorted. He spun the ship into a barrel-roll and pulled its nose up and beyond their pursuers' laser fire. Two strange, ugly fighters buzzed below them. They resembled the new Z-73 model, minus the sleek canopy. The cloaked stranger continued the loop until they were behind the patrols.   
  
"Finish them," his master menaced.   
  
The pilot's fingers were already at the task. Their ship's green lasers cut into the space ahead in a stream of quick lances. One of the fighters caught a deadly dose of the fire and spiraled out of sight. An explosion followed.   
  
"Now the other."  
  
Shifting his sights, the dark pilot narrowed his target and let off another volley of laser fire. This time the remaining fighter spun away from the blasts and took off to the right.   
  
"You missed."  
  
"He's good, better than the other one. It might take longer."   
  
"Patience is for Jedi."  
  
So be it. He took their ship the opposite direction. He would surprise the fool and cut off his dive to the rear. No games of leap frog.  
  
But before their second loop could finish, there was a bright flash and a moaning turbulence. Laser fire. It surprised the pilot, punching deep into the left side of their ship. A beeping alarm started to go off.  
  
"You let him hit us."  
  
"He must've turned harder than I thought! I didn't know-"  
  
"Silence!" The beeping began to grow louder. "I will end this."  
  
The pilot's master slowly leaned forward in his seat and clenched a fist. The pilot squeezed his eyes shut and started to grab at his neck. When there was no sensation, no pain, he relaxed and stared at his sensors, realizing what was happening. His master could feel the life force of the enemy pilot. He would kill him with the Force, crush his lungs. He could've done that at the very beginning.   
  
The cloaked pilot began to sweat. 


	7. VII

The line. Boundaries. Whatever happened to  
  
Gasp. Cough. Varus was shaking. The dream was gone again, replaced by nightmare.  
  
"We have to leave," Qei rasped. "Now."  
  
"Master, he tried to kill us!"  
  
"I know."  
  
"Is he-"  
  
Qei helped Varus to his feet, placing a hand on the wounded shoulder. "Dead?" the Jedi master guessed. "I should think so. That device that you were staring at was a thermal detonator. Nasty weapons. Good for killing slow padawans." He closed his eyes and relaxed his grip on the shoulder. "Next time you see one.." The healing power of the Force flowed into the wound. " Don't forget that smoking ruin over there." He gestured at what remained of the Mandalorian, no more that a few yards away. "Understood?"  
  
"Yes, master." Varus was still dazed, trying to grasp what exactly had gone through his head just a few minutes ago. Should he tell Qei about the dream?  
  
"We'll still need to get that patched up," Qei indicated, tracing a finger along where the burn had cut a gash through the skin. "Hurry, back to the study. Get your things and I'll find some kind of bracer. Now go."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Questions will be answered later," Qei assured him. "We've not much time." Thunder echoed in the distance. Another storm grew closer. "Move, now!"  
  
Shaken but still sensible, Varus bolted over the dune and ran inside the study. The winds were picking up everywhere, whistling quietly with a grim kind of promise. This storm would be big, they seemed to say. Terrible and different. Varus tried to steady his hands as he rooted through his belongings, caught in some post-adrenaline rush of fear and sweat. He'd never done anything like that. What was he thinking? He could've been killed! Everything was happening so fast now..  
  
"Varus, forget those books! We'll get new ones. We need to travel light!"  
  
Qei was already inside, somehow. His voice echoed down the hall. Varus couldn't stop shaking, so he grabbed one the blankets from his bed and draped it around him, a makeshift cloak. The padawan brushed a bead of cold sweat from his forehead and grabbed his only bag. Travel light, his mind echoed. "Master, why are we leaving so soon?" He stepped out into the hallway. "I feel sick."  
  
"Here, show me your arm." Qei was there, pulling the blanket aside so he could tend the shoulder. "This wound needs to be treated by professionals. The Force and bandages only go so far."  
  
"You mean we don't have anything better than that?"   
  
"I'm just an old hermit, Varus. Remember?"  
  
The padawan grimaced as his master finished with the bandages. They itched profoundly. "Then we're leaving?"  
  
"Yes," Qei answered. He looked strangely at Varus. "Come now, padawan. Cheer up. Isn't this what you've been waiting for?"  
  
Varus was silent.   
  
"I sense fear in you. Don't let it fester. Feel the Force; steady your heart." Qei grabbed his good shoulder and smiled lightly. "You did well with the Mandalorian. You were reserved in your defense, humane in his defeat. He was a coward, a pawn of the dark side. You are stronger than him."  
  
Varus nodded quietly. Qei, subduing his concern, turned and lead them down the hall. They passed many doorways, many memories. Rooms and discussions and jokes and quarrels. The storm rose outside. Why do I feel I'll miss this place?   
  
"Padawan, here."   
  
They stepped into a dark place, a room that had no floor but sand. Varus had never noticed it. Is this a dream?   
  
Varus heard Qei press a button on the wall.   
  
Dream...no, I just awoke from a dream. That dark man on the cliff. I should tell Qei..  
  
"Master-"  
  
"Surprising, isn't it?" A small hangar door opened on the opposite end of the room. Gray light poured in, strafed in flashes of lightning from outside. There was a two-passenger swoop bike in front of them. "This is what brought us here, back when you were no more than a child."  
  
"What is it?" Varus was suddenly in awe at the simple elegance of its design. It was something he'd never seen before, yet it...made sense. It felt familiar, somehow.   
  
"It's called a swoop," Qei explained. "It's a popular form of transportation on barren worlds like this." He studied Varus' expression. "Don't worry, my young padawan. It's safe. I used to be quite the vigilante...some years ago. Climb aboard."  
  
Curious but still shaking, Varus followed suit as his master climbed on the front end of the thing. It didn't feel safe at all. He noticed there were handles for his seat as he lowered himself on the back. How fast did this thing go? Could it fly?  
  
"Hold on tight," Qei began. "If you fall off, try to stay low. I'm not very good at turning around. Oh, and if you start to feel sick, make sure you turn your head the other way! These things can get in nasty wrecks.."  
  
Varus blinked. "Master Qei."  
  
The engine roared to life.  
  
"No time, Varus."  
  
"But Master Qei-"  
  
The swoop rose off the ground. "I said no time, Varus! Just hold on."  
  
Thunder beckoned ahead. "But Master-"  
  
"Here we go!"  
  
"-Qei!"  
  
The swoop shot forward like lightning. They were gone, into the storm. 


	8. VIII

The ship fell, dead to its owners. Like a moth surrendered to its primal nature, the sleek wreck burned and screamed in a cacophony of jealous flames, victim to the gravity and atmosphere of Sarkuhn. But through death there was life.  
  
The dark pilot shook his head as he reflected on his past. So vile, so wasted. And now, to go out like this? A slave to an ancient man who had perverted his life beyond recognition? Branded Sith and hated by every just mind in the galaxy? Imprisoned by the dark side, stranger to freedom?  
  
Freedom. Now there's an amusing thought, the man smiled. How do you free yourself from fate? How do you free yourself when your master is infinitely more powerful than you?  
  
The presence in the back of the ship stirred.  
  
I mustn't think treasonous thoughts..  
  
More explosions. The ship had been steadily falling apart since the dogfight. The flight navigation system was shot, so any hope of averting the plunge to Sarkuhn was meek at best.  
  
Treasonous thoughts. Ah hell, what does it matter. We're both going to die anyway.  
  
"Correction," came the sinister voice. It sent a vicious chill up the pilot's spine as he knelt his head. "You are going to die once we reach surface," it hissed. "Your weakness has cost me too much. My home is gone. My ship is gone. All because of your blunders. I will find a new apprentice, one less inclined to treasonous thoughts. One less inclined to stupidity."  
  
The blaze outside was growing brighter. The ship began shaking with greater violence.  
  
"What makes you think you'll survive this, old man? You may be strong in the Force, but you can't escape gravity. We'll burn alive in this tomb.."  
  
The shaking became extreme, jolting the seats and ripping at the seams of the craft. The pilot rose from his place and turned around.  
  
"At least I won't be an apprentice anymore," he continued. "At least I'll have the pleasure of killing you before this inferno does." The other presence was becoming rich with menace. "At least I'll be free."  
  
With timing born of either fate or catastrophe, the pilot activated his crimson lightsaber and hurled it into the back of the ship. It seared through the shadows as the old Sith lord drew himself up, out of his placid seat. He reached out to stop the blade, feeling for it with the Force. But it was too late. He was too slow. He had...not foreseen this. The spinning lightsaber cut through him in a storm of sparks and smoke, ripping his robe and tormented body into steaming ribbons as it hovered in place, caught in an endless motion by the Force, spinning and slicing and spinning. A rotor of destruction. Of change. Of renewal.   
  
The spinning stopped, and a heap of ash fell to the floor. Utter ruin. Cold and silent, the pilot withdrew his blade and sheathed it. Now he was the master. He would die, free of servitude. He would be at peace. At last.  
  
He turned and looked out the viewport. A storm. He was descending through a storm.  
  
The atmosphere didn't destroy the ship..  
  
Amazing. The pilot sat down at the helm and gazed at what waited below. Clouds of dust parted, and there, in the midst of lightning flashes and dunes of sand, was a cluster of ruined buildings. A solitary swoop rode off into the distance, away from the ruins.  
  
Who is that? His mind gasped, suddenly oblivious to the disaster around him. It feels familiar, as if..  
  
Crash, lightning.   
  
Darkness. 


End file.
